showdown
by Sane-in-Insanity
Summary: Dean/Castiel — Being Cas-sexual is awesome.


_Note: A sequel to _revelations_. Please read that before this one :)_

* * *

**showdown**

_Being Cas-sexual is awesome._

* * *

"You know what to do, Dean."

Just like that, Sam practically darts out of the motel, looking smug, with the keys to the Impala, leaving Dean _alone _with Cas in a motel room.

It's like a scene right out of a horror movie without all the blood and gore and dumb blondes.

Okay, that's probably an exaggeration, but _whatever_.

Of course, it isn't the first time Dean is alone with Cas, but all those times have been more—innocent, for the lack of a better description; Dean wasn't aware of his Cas-sexuality back then. For months, he was all for having a platonic celestial pal until he brought Cas to a 'den of iniquity'.

Then came Chastity—an inappropriately named girl who practically undressed Cas with her _come-hither_ eyes (and then with her _hands_ later that night—thank fuck it was all that went down before Cas screwed it up with his revelation about some post office job). Dean instantly regretted it when he sent Cas away, frightened and confused, into the hands of some girl who wanted to rip his trench coat off.

Dean didn't have much time to reflect on his odd reaction to the idea of Cas getting laid by some hot chick though, because Cas ruined it himself with his socially awkward skills (Dean was royally thankful for them then). It was strange—the way the weight lifted off his chest when he led Cas out of the brothel with two angry bouncers on their heels.

That feeling bugged Dean for days, _weeks _even. He kept telling himself that it was only because he didn't want the angel to dirty himself with the touch of some cheap escort before he got French-fried by the archangel (then again, Dean _was _the one who took Cas to the whorehouse in the first place).

It wasn't easy, but in the end, Dean bit the bullet and came to terms with his newly discovered Cas-sexuality. He instantly confided in Sam, then—an unusual behavior for Dean, but he was desperately in need of an outside opinion. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Not that it helped. All Sam said was some cryptic shit about getting Cas to 'co-operate'. What the hell is that even supposed to mean?

To add fuel to the fire, Dean did _not _expect Sam to call on the angel right there and then. As usual, Cas arrived straight away. Why are angels so damned punctual all the time? Dean could seriously use some prep-time before he had to face this eventual showdown.

He is _so _not ready for this.

Unnervingly aware of his flushed cheeks (for God's sake, he hasn't blushed like this since junior high), Dean coughs once and grins a little too brightly. "I'll go with Sam. That kid will probably get lost. Gotta look out for him, y'know?" He says quickly, moving around Cas for the door.

Cas reappears in front of Dean, blocking his way to the exit. Friggin' angels and their mojo. "Dean, you know Sam is more than capable of navigating through a small town," he deadpans. He leans closer. "Now, tell me, _what is going on_?"

Cas' eyes—they are so _blue_ that Dean swears up and down that he can see the ocean in them or something crazy like that. Crap—did he really just think that? He is dangerously close to resembling one of those swooning girls who worship One Direction. Dean blinks stupidly, trying to snap out of his embarrassing stupor.

The angel sighs, forlorn, and steps away from Dean. "There's clearly something you are not telling me. I could read your mind to find out—" Dean's eyes widen at that, "—but I won't. I'm going to leave you alone until you see fit to—"

"No!" Dean blurts, almost frantically. The angel tilts his head slightly and narrows his eyes at Dean, a contemplating expression in his eyes. Dean tries to summon his Winchester charms but all the smooth moves he's mastered since high school have inconveniently gone AWOL, leaving him a sputtering fool. "Cas, look, I was telling Sam about—about you." The words trip out of his mouth in a rush.

"About me?" Cas demands, sounding genuinely curious—or as curious as angel can sound, anyway. "Explain."

Dean gulps, wondering just how in the _world _he is meant to phrase things correctly without freaking Cas out. Are there even angelic customs regarding things like this? Probably not, with angels being humdrum warriors of God and all that bullshit.

He approaches Cas, his feet moving without thinking, and he cups the side of Cas' face before sealing his lips upon the angel's. He feels Cas flinch at the contact before he presses closer into Dean, which is something the Winchester is utterly unprepared for. Dean's throat makes a _tiny _embarrassing noise—a moan, holy shit Dean just _moaned _into Cas' mouth—and before he knows it, he is pinned against the wall, playing a hard-core game of tonsil hockey with the angel, hands everywhere and anywhere and _fuck _he needs to get Cas out of his stupid trench coat—

—and suddenly it hits him: Dean Winchester, the ladies' man, is _kissing a dude _and Jesus Christ it feels so weird and creepy and fuckin' _amazing_.

In the midst of it all, Dean forces himself to stop. "Cas," he breathes heavily, a hand on Cas' shoulder and another held up in front of him. "We should probably talk about this."

For the first time ever, Cas seems flustered. His cheeks are bright pink against his pale skin and Dean has to fight the compelling urge to kiss him right there, all over again. Cas stares at him. "Of course, Dean."

"But I'm terrible at this—" Dean makes a vague gesture, "—talking thing."

"In that case, we should postpone the talking and continue _this_," Cas murmurs, lips a mere inch away from Dean's and voice more raspy than usual, and Dean can't help but think—being Cas-sexual is _awesome_.

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_I have an unhealthy tendency to end things pre-smut, ahaha. Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoyed! Please don't fav without reviewing! Reviews are awesome :)_


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